Chapter
66

Where shall I find words to express
the sentiments of surprise, admiration and joy I felt when, after divine service,
alone in my humble study, I considered, in the presence of God, what His mighty
hand had just wrought under my eyes. The people who surrounded the Saviour when
He cried to Lazarus to come forth, were not more amazed at seeing the dead coming
out of his grave than I was when I had seen, not one, but more than a thousand,
of my countrymen so suddenly and unexpectedly coming out from the grave of the
degrading slavery in which they were born and brought up. No, the heart of Moses
was not filled with more joy than mine, when on the shores of the Red Sea, he
sang his sublime hymn:

"I will sing unto
the Lord: for He hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath He
thrown into the sea. The Lord is my strength and song, and He is become my salvation:
He is my God, and I will prepare Him an habitation: my fathers' God, and I will
exalt Him" (Ex. xv. 2).

My joy was, however, suddenly changed
into confusion, when I considered the unworthiness of the instrument which God
had chosen to do that work. I felt this was only the beginning of the most remarkable
religious reform which had ever occurred on this continent of America, and I
was dismayed at the thought of such a task! I saw, at a glance, that I was called
to guide my people into regions entirely new and unexplored. The terrible difficulties
which Luther, Calvin and Knox had met, at almost every step, were to meet me.
Though giants, they had, at many times, been bought low and almost discouraged
in their new positions. What would become of me, seeing that I was so deficient
in knowledge, wisdom and experience!

Many times, during the first night after the deliverance of my people from the
bondage of the Pope, I said to my God in tears: "Why hast not Thou chosen
a more worthy instrument of Thy mercies towards my brethren?" I would have
shrank before the task, had not God said to me in His Word: "For ye see
your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many
mighty, not many noble, are called; but God hath chosen the foolish things of
the world to confound the wise. And God hath chosen the weak things of the world
to confound the things which are mighty, and base things of the world and things
which are despised, hath God chosen; yea, the things which are not, to bring
to naught the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence"
(I Cor. i. 29 29).

These words calmed my fears and gave me new courage. Next morning, I said to
myself: "Is it not God alone who has done the great things of yesterday?
Why should I not rely upon Him for the things which remain to be done? I am
weak, it is true, but He is strong and mighty. I am unwise, but He is the God
of light and wisdom: I am sinful, but He is the God of holiness: He wants the
world to know that He is the worker."

It would make the most interesting book, were I to tell all the marvelous episodes
of the new battle my dear countrymen and I had to fight against Rome, in those
stormy but blessed days. Let me ask my readers to come with me to that Roman
Catholic family, and see the surprise and desolation of the wife and children
when the father returned from public service and said: "My dear wife and
children, I have, for ever, left the Church of Rome, and hope that you will
do the same. The ignominious chains by which we were tied, as the slaves of
the bishops and the Pope, are broken. Christ Jesus alone will reign over us
now. His Holy Word alone will rule and guide us. Salvation is a gift: I am happy
in it possession."

In another house, the husband had not been able to come to church, but the wife
and children had. It was now the wife who announced to her husband that she
had, for ever, renounced the usurped authority of the bishops and the Pope:
and that it was her firm resolution to obey no other master than Christ, and
accept no other religion than the one taught in the Gospel. At first, this was
considered only as a joke; but as soon as it was realized to be a fact, there
were, in many places, confusion, tears, angry words and bitter discussions.
But the God of truth, light and salvation was there; and as it was His work,
the storms were soon calmed, the tears dried, and peace restored.

A week had scarcely passed, when the Gospel cause had achieved one of the most
glorious victories over its implacable enemy, the Pope. In a few days, 405 out
of 500 families which were around me in St. Anne, had not only accepted the
Gospel of Christ, as their only authority in religion; but had publicly given
up the name of Roman Catholics, to call themselves Christian Catholics.

A few months later, a Romish priest, legally questioned on the subject, by the
Judge of Kankakee, had to swear that only fifteen families had remained Roman
Catholics in St. Anne.

A most admirable feature of this religious movement, was the strong determination
of those who had never been taught to read, to lose no time in acquiring the
privilege of reading for themselves the Divine Gospel which had made them free
from the bondage of man. Half of the people had never been taught to read while
in Canada; but as their children were attending the schools we had established
in different parts of the colony, every house, as well as our chapel, on Sabbath
days, was soon turned into a school-house, where our school-boys and girls were
the teachers, and the fathers and mothers, the pupils. In a short time, there
were but few, except those who refused to leave Rome, who could not read for
themselves the Holy Word of God.

But, however great the victory we had gained over the Pope, it was not yet complete.
It was true that the enemy had received a deadly wound. The beast, with the
seven heads, had its principal one severed. The usurped authority of the bishops
had been destroyed, and the people had determined to accept none but the authority
of Christ. But many false notions, drank with the milk of their mothers, had
been retained. Many errors and superstitions still remained in their minds,
as a mist after the rising of the sun, to prevent them from seeing clearly the
saving light of the Gospel, it was my duty to destroy those superstitions, and
root out these noxious weeds. But, I knew the formidable difficulties the reformers
of the fifteenth century had met, the deplorable divisions which had spread
among them, and the scandals which had so seriously retarded and compromised
the reformation.

I cried to God for wisdom and strength. Never had I understood so clearly, as
I did in that most solemn and difficult epoch of my life, the truth that prayer
is to the troubled mind what oil is to the raging waves of the sea. My people
and I, as are all Roman Catholics, were much given to the worship of images
and statues. There were fourteen beautiful pictures hung on the walls of our
chapel called: "The Way of the Cross," on which the circumstances
of the passion of Jesus Christ were represented, each surmounted with a cross.
One of our favourite devotional exercises, was to kneel, three or four times
a week, before them, prostrate ourselves and say, with a loud voice: "Oh!
holy cross, we adore thee." We used to address our most fervent prayers
to them, as if they could hear us, asking them to change our hearts and purify
our souls! Our blind devotions were so sincere that we used to bow our heads
to the ground before them. I may say the same of the beautiful statue, or rather
idol, of the Virgin Mary, represented as a child learning to read at the feet
of her mother, St. Anne.

The group was a masterpiece of art, sent to me by some rich friends from Montreal,
not long after I had left that city to form the colony of St. Anne, in 1852.
We had frequently addressed our most fervent prayers to those statues, but after
the blessed Pentecost on which we had broken the yoke of the Pope, I never entered
my church without blushing at the sight of those idols on the altar. I would
have given much to have the pictures, crosses and things removed, but dare not
lay hands suddenly on them, I was afraid, lest I should do harm to some of my
people who, it seemed to me, were yet too weak in their religious views to bear
it. I was just then reading how Knox and Calvin had made bonfires of all those
relics of old Paganism, and I wished I could do the same; but I felt like Jacob,
who could not follow the rapid march of his brother, Esau, towards the land
of Seir. "The children are tender and the flocks and herds with young are
with me. If men should overdrive them one day, all the flock will die"
(Gen. xxxiii. 13).

Our merciful God saw the perplexity in which I was, and taught me how to get
rid of those idols without harming the weak.

One Sabbath, on which I preached on the Second Commandment: "Thou shalt
not make to thyself any graven image," ect. (Exod. xx. 4), I remained in
the chapel to pray after the people had left. I looked up to the group of statues
on the altar, and said to them: "My good ladies, you must come down from
that high position: God Almighty alone is worshipped here now: if you could
walk out of this place I would politely invite you to do it. But you are nothing
but mute, deaf, blind and motionless idols: you have eyes, but you cannot see:
ears, but you cannot hear: feet, but you cannot walk. What will I do with you
now? Your reign has come to an end."

It suddenly came to my mind that when I had put these statues on their high
pedestal, I had tied them with a very slender, but strong silk cord, to prevent
them from falling. I said to myself: "If I were to cut that string, the
idols would surely fall, the first day the people would shake the floor when
entering or going out." Their fall and destruction would then scandalize
on one. I took my knife and scaled the altar, cut the string, and said: "Now,
my good ladies, take care of yourselves, especially when the chapel is shaken
by the wind, or the coming in of the people."

I never witnessed a more hearty laugh than at the beginning of the religious
services, on the next Sabbath. The chapel, being shaken by the action of the
whole people who fell on their knees to pray, the two idols, deprived of their
silk support, after a couple of jerks which, in former days, we might have taken
for a friendly greeting, fell down with a loud crash, and broke into fragments.
Old and young, strong and weak, and even babes in the faith, after laughing
to their hearts' content at the sad end of their idols, said to each other:
"How foolish and blind were we, to put our trust in, and pray to these
idols, that they might protect us, when they cannot take care of themselves!"
The last vestige of idol worship among our dear converts, disappeared for ever
with the dust and broken fragments of those poor helpless statues. The very
next day, the people themselves took away all the images before which they had
so often abjectly prostrated themselves, and destroyed them.

From the beginning of this movement, it had been my plan to let the people draw
their own conclusions as much as possible from their own study of the Holy Scriptures.
I used to direct their steps, in such a way, that they might understand that
I was myself led with them by the mighty and merciful arm of God, in our new
ways. It was also evident to me that, from the beginning, the great majority,
after searching the Scriptures with prayerful attention, had found out that
Purgatory was a diabolical invention used by the priests of Rome, to enrich
themselves, at the expense of their poor blind slaves. But I was also convinced
that quite a number were not altogether free from that imposture. I did not
know how to attack and destroy that error without wounding and injuring some
of the weak children of the Gospel. After much praying, I thought that the best
way to clear the clouds which were still hovering around the feeblest intelligences,
was to have recourse to the following device:

The All Souls Day (1st Nov.) had come, when it was the usage to take up collections
for the sake of having prayers and masses said for the souls in purgatory. I
then said to the people, from the pulpit: "You have been used, from your
infancy, to collect money, today, in order to have prayers said for the souls
in purgatory. Since we have left the Church of Rome for the Church of Christ,
we have spent many pleasant hours together in reading and meditating upon the
Gospel. You know that we have not found in it a single word about purgatory.
From the beginning to the end of that divine book, we have learned that it was
only though the blood of the Lamb, shed on the Cross, that our guilty souls
could be purified from their sins. I know, however, that a few of you have retained
something of the views taught to you, when in the Church of Rome, concerning
purgatory. I do not want to trouble them by useless discussions on the subject,
or by refusing the money they want to give for the souls of their dear departed
parents and friends. The only thing I want to do is this: You used to have a
small box passed to you to receive that money. Today, instead of one box, two
boxes will be passed, one white, the other black. Those who, like myself, do
not believe in purgatory, will put their donations in the white box, and the
money will be given to the poor widows and orphans of the parish to help them
to get food and clothing for next winter. Those of you who still believe in
purgatory, will put their money into the black box, for the benefit of the dead.
The only favour I ask of them is that they should tell me how to convey their
donations to their departed friends. I tell you frankly that the money you give
to the priests, never goes to the benefit of the souls of purgatory. The priests,
everywhere, keep that money for their own bread and butter."

My remarks were followed by a general smile. Thirty-five dollars were put in
the white box for the orphans and widows, and not a cent fell into the box for
the souls of purgatory.

From that day, by the great mercy of God, our dear converts were perfectly rid
of the ridiculous and sacrilegious belief in purgatory. This is the way I have
dealt with all the errors and idolatries of Rome. We had two public meetings
every week, when our chapel was as well filled as on Sabbath. After the religious
exercise, every one had the liberty to question me and argue on the various
subjects announced at the last meeting.

The doctrines of auricular confession, prayers in an unknown language, the mass,
holy water and indulgences, were calmly examined, discussed, and thrown overboard,
one after the other, in a very short time. The good done in those public discussions
was incalculable. Our dear converts not only learned the great truths of Christianity,
but they learned also how to defend and preach them to their relations, friends
and neighbours. Many would come from long distances to see for themselves that
strange religious movement which was making so much noise all over the country.
It is needless to say that few of them went back without having received some
rays of the saving light which the Sun of Righteousness was so abundantly pouring
upon me and my dear brethren of St. Anne.

Three months after our exit from the land of bondage, we were not less than
six thousand French Canadian marching towards the Promised Land.

How can I express the joy of my soul, when, under cover of the darkness of night,
I was silently pacing the streets of our town, I heard, from almost every house,
sounds of reading the Holy Scriptures, or the melodies of our delightful French
hymns! How many times did I then, uniting my feeble voice with that old prophet,
say in the rapture of my joy: "Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that
is within me, bless His holy name" (Ps. ciii. 1).

But it was necessary that such a great and blessed work should be tried. God
cannot be purified without going through the fire.

On the 27th of July, a devoted priest, through my friend, Mr. Dunn, of Chicago,
sent me the following copy of a letter, written by the Roman Catholic Bishop
of Illinois (Duggan) to several of his co-bishops: "The schism of the apostate,
Chiniquy, is spreading with an incredible and most irresistible velocity. I
am told that he has not less then ten thousand followers from his countrymen.
Though I hope that this number is an exaggeration, it shows that the evil is
great; and that we must not lose any time in trying to open the eyes of the
deluded people he is leading to perdition. I intend (D.V.) to visit the very
citadel of that deplorable schism, next Tuesday, the 3rd of August. As I speak
French almost as well as English, I will address the deluded people of St. Anne
in their own language. My intention is to unmask Chiniquy, and show what kind
of a man he is. Then I will show the people the folly of believing that they
can read and interpret the Scriptures, by their own private judgment. After
which, I will easily show them that out of the Church of Rome there is no salvation.
Pray to the blessed Virgin Mary that she may help me reclaim that poor deceived
people."

Having read that letter to the people on the first Sabbath of August, I said:
"We know a man only after he has been tried. So we know the faith of a
Christian only after it has been through the fire of tribulations. I thank God
that next Tuesday will be the day chosen by Him to show the world that you are
worthy of being in the front rank of the great army Jesus Christ is gathering
to fight His implacable enemy, the Pope, on this continent. Let every one of
you come and hear what the bishop has to say. Not only those who are in good
health must come, but even the sick must be brought to hear and judge for themselves.
If the bishop fulfills his promise to show you that I am a depraved and wicked
man, you must turn me out. You must give up or burn your Bibles, at his bidding,
if he proves that you have neither the right to read, nor the intelligence to
understand them; and if he shows you that, out of the Church of Rome, there
is no salvation, you must, without an hour's delay, return to that church and
submit yourselves to the Pope's bishops. But if he fails (as he will surely
do) you know what you have to do. Next Tuesday will be a most glorious day for
us all. A great and decisive battle will be fought here, such as this continent
has never witnessed, between the great principles of Christian truth and liberty,
and the principles of lies and tyranny of the Pope. I have only one word more
to say: From this moment to the solemn hour of the conflict, let us humbly,
but fervently ask our great God, through His beloved and eternal Son, to look
down upon us in His mercy, enlighten and strengthen us, that we may be true
to Him, to ourselves, and to His Gospel, and then, the angels of heaven will
unite with all the elect of God on earth to bless you for the great and glorious
victory you will win."

Never had the sun shone more brightly on our beautiful hill than on the 3rd
of August, 1858. The hearts had never felt so happy, and the faces had never
been so perfectly the mirrors of joyful minds, as on that day, among the multitudes
which began to gather from every corner of the colony, a little after twelve
o'clock, noon.

Seeing that our chapel, though very large, would not be able to contain half
the audience, we had raised a large and solid platform, ten feet high, in the
middle of the public square, in front of the chapel. We covered it with carpets,
and put a sofa, with a good number of chairs, for the bishop, his long suite
of priests, and one for myself, and a large table for the different books of
references I wanted to have at hand, to answer the bishop.

At about two o'clock p.m., we perceived his carriage, followed by several others
filled with priests. He was dressed in his white surplice, and his official
"bonnet carre" on his head, evidently to more surely command the respect
and awe of the multitude.

I had requested the people to keep silence and show him all the respect and
courtesy due a gentleman who was visiting them, for the first time.

As soon as his carriage was near the chapel, I gave a signal, and up went the
American flag to the top of a mast put on the sacred edifice. It was to warn
the ambassador of the Pope that he was not treading the land of the holy inquisition
and slavery, but the land of Freedom and Liberty. The bishop understood it.
For, raising his head to see that splendid flag of stripes and stars, waving
to the breeze, he became pale to death. And his uneasiness did not abate, when
the thousands round him rent the air with the cry: "Hurrah for the flag
of the free and the brave!" The bishop and his priests thought this was
the signal I had given to slaughter them; for they had been told several times,
that I and my people were so depraved and wicked that their lives were in great
danger among us. Several priests who had not much relish for the crown of martyrdom,
jumped from their carriages and ran away, to the great amusement of the crowd.
Perceiving the marks of the most extreme terror on the face of the bishop, I
ran to tell him that there was not the least danger, and assured him of the
pleasure we had to see him in our midst.

I offered my hand to help him down from his carriage, but he refused it. After
some minutes of trembling and hesitation, he whispered a few words in the ear
of his Grand Vicar Mailloux, who was well known by my people, and of whom I
have already spoken. I knew that it was by his advice that the bishop was among
us, and it was by his instigation that Bishop Smith had refused the submission
we had given him.

Rising slowly, he said with a loud voice: "My dear French Canadian countrymen,
here is your holy bishop. Kneel down, and he will give you his benediction."

But, to the great disgust of the poor grand vicar, this so well laid plan for
beginning the battle failed entirely. Not a single one of that immense multitude
cared for the benediction. Nobody knelt.

Thinking that he had not spoken loud enough, he raised his voice to the highest
pitch and cried:

"My dear fellow countrymen: This is your holy bishop. He comes to visit
you. Kneel down, and he will give you his benediction."

But nobody knelt, and, what was worse, a voice from the crowd answered:

"Do you not know, sir, that there we no longer bend the knee before any
man? It is only before God we kneel."

The whole people cried "Amen!" to that noble answer. I could not refrain
a tear of joy from falling down my cheeks, when I saw how this first effort
of the ambassador of the Pope to entrap my people had signally failed. But though
I thanked God from the bottom of my heart for this first success He had given
to His soldiers, I knew the battle was far from being over.

I implored Him to bide with us, to be our wisdom and our strength to the end.
I looked at the bishop, and seeing his countenance as distressed as before,
I offered him my hand again, but he refused it the second time with supreme
disdain, but accepted the invitation I gave him to come to the platform.

When half way up the stairs he turned, and seeing me following him, he put forth
his hand to prevent me from ascending any further, and said: "I do not
want you on this platform; go down, and let my priests alone accompany me."

I answered him: "It may be that you do not want me there, but I want to
be at your side to answer you. Remember that you are not on your own ground
here, but on mine!"

He then, silently and slowly, walked up. When on the platform, I offered him
a good arm-chair, which he refused, and sat on one of his own choice, with his
priests around him. I then addressed him as follows:

"My lord, the people and pastor of St. Anne are exceedingly pleased to
see you in their midst. We promise to listen attentively to what you have to
say, on condition that we have the privilege of answering you."

He answered angrily: "I do not want you to say a word here."

Then stepping to the front, he began his address in French, with a trembling
voice. But it was a miserable failure from beginning to end. In vain did he
try to prove that out of the Church of Rome, there is no salvation. He failed
still more miserably to prove that the people have neither the right to read
the Scriptures, nor the intelligence to understand them. He said such ridiculous
things on that point, that the people went into fits of laughter, and some said:
"This is not true. You do not know what you are talking about. The Bible
says the very contrary."

But I stopped them by reminding them of the promise they had made of not interrupting
him.

A little before the closing of his address, he turned to me and said: "You
are a wicked, rebel priest against your holy church. Go from here into a monastery
to do penance for your sins. You say that you have never been excommunicated
in a legal way! Well, you will not say that any longer, for I excommunicate
you now before this whole people."

I interrupted him and said: "You forget that you have no right to excommunicate
a man who has publicly left your church long ago."

He seemed to realize that he had made a fool of himself in uttering such a sentence,
and stopped speaking for a moment. Then, recalling his lost courage, he took
a new and impressive manner of speaking. He told the people how their friends,
their relatives, their very dear mothers and fathers in Canada were weeping
over their apostasy. He spoke for a time with great earnestness of the desolation
of all those who loved them, at the news of their defection from their holy
mother church. Then, resuming, he said: "My dear friends: Please tell me
what will be your guide in the ways of God after you have left the holy church
of your fathers, the church of your country; who will lead you in the ways of
God?"

Those words, which have been uttered with great emphasis and earnestness, were
followed by a most complete and solemn silence. Was that silence the result
of a profound impression made on the crowd, or was it the silence which always
precedes the storm? I could not say. But I must confess that, though I had not
lost confidence in God, I was not without anxiety. Though silent and ardent
prayers were going to the mercy-seat from my heart, I felt that that poor heart
was troubled and anxious, as it had never been before. I could have easily answered
the bishop and confounded him in a few words; but I thought that it was much
better to let the answer and rebuke come from the people.

The bishop, hoping that the long and strange silence was a proof that he had
successfully touched the sensitive cords of the hearts, and that he was to win
the day, exclaimed a second time with still more power and earnestness: "My
dear French Canadian friends: I ask you, in the name of Jesus Christ, your Saviour
and mine, in the name of your desolated mothers, fathers, and friends who are
weeping along the banks of your beautiful St. Lawrence River I ask it in the
name of your beloved Canada! Answer me! now that you refuse to obey the holy
Church of Rome, who will guide you in the ways of salvation?"

Another solemn silence followed that impassionate and earnest appeal. But this
silence was not to be long. When I had invited the people to come and hear the
bishop, I requested them to bring their Bibles. Suddenly we heard the voice
of an old farmer, who, raising his Bible over his head with his two hands, said:
"This Bible is all we want to guide us in the ways of God. We do not want
anything but the pure Word of God to teach us what we must do to be saved. As
for you, sir, you had better go away and never come here any more."

And more than five thousand voices said "Amen!" to that simple and
yet sublime answer. The whole crowd filled the air with cries: "The Bible!
the Holy Bible, the holy Word of God is our only guide in the ways of eternal
life! Go away, sir, and never come again!"

These words, again and again repeated by the thousands of people who surrounded
the platform, fell upon the poor bishop's ears as formidable claps of thunder.
They were ringing as his death-knell in his ears. The battle was over, and he
had lost it.

Bathed in his tears, suffocated by his sobs, he sat or, to speak more correctly,
he fell into the arm-chair, and I feared at first lest he should faint. When
I saw that he was recovering and strong enough to hear what I had to say, I
stepped to the front of the platform. But I had scarcely said two words when
I felt as if the claws of a tiger were on my shoulders. I turned and found that
it was the clenched fingers of the bishop, who was shaking me while he was saying
with a furious voice: "No! no! not a word from you."

As I was about to show him that I had a right to refute what he had said, my
eyes fell on a scene which baffles all description. Those only who have seen
the raging waves of the sea suddenly raised by the hurricane can have an idea
of it. The people had seen the violent hand of the bishop raised against me;
they had heard his insolent and furious words forbidding me to say a single
word in answer: and a universal cry of indignation was heard: "The infamous
wretch! Down with him! He wants to enslave us again! he denies us the right
of free speech! he refuses to hear what our pastor has to reply! Down with him!"
At the same time a rush was made by many toward the platform to scale it, and
others were at work to tear it down. That whole multitude, absolutely blinded
by their uncontrollable rage, were as a drunken man who does not know what he
does. I had read that such things had occurred before, but I hope I shall never
see it again. I rushed to the head of the stairs, and with great difficulty
repulsed those who were trying to lay their hands on the bishop. In vain I raised
my voice to calm them, and make them realize the crime they wanted to commit.
No voice could be heard in the midst of such terrible confusion. It was very
providential that we had built the scaffold with strong materials, so that it
could resist the first attempt to break it.

Happily, we had in our midst a very intelligent young man called Bechard, who
was held in great esteem and respect. His influence, I venture to say, was irresistible
over the people. I called him to the platform, and requested him, in the name
of God, to appease the blind fury of that multitude. Strange to say, his presence
and a sign from his hand acted like magic.

"Let us hear what Bechard has to say," whispered every one to his
neighbour, and suddenly the most profound calm succeeded the most awful noise
and confusion I had ever witnessed. In a few appropriate and eloquent words,
that young gentleman showed the people that, far from being angry, they ought
to be glad at the exhibition of the tyranny and cowardice of the bishop. Had
he not confessed the weakness of his address when he refused to hear the answer?
Had he not confessed that he was the vilest and the most impudent of tyrants
when he had come into their very midst to deny them the sacred right of speech
and reply? Had he not proved, before God and man, that they had done well to
reject, for ever, the authority of the Bishop of Rome, when he was giving them
such an unanswerable proof that that authority meant the most unbounded tyranny
on his part, and he most degraded and ignominious moral degradation on the part
of his blind slaves?

Seeing that they were anxious to hear me, I then told them:

"Instead of being angry, you ought to bless God for what you have heard
and seen from the Bishop of Chicago. You have heard, and you are witnesses that
he has not given us a single argument to show that we were wrong when he gave
up the words of the Pope to follow the words of Christ. Was he not right when
he told you that there was no need, on my part, to answer him? Do you not all
agree that there was nothing to answer, nothing to refute in his long address?
Has not our merciful God brought that bishop into your midst today to show you
the truthfulness of what I have so often told you, that there was nothing manly,
nothing honest, or true in him? Have you heard from his lips a single word which
could have come from the lips of Christ? A word which could have come from that
great God who so loved His people that He sent His eternal Son to save them?
Was there a single sentence in all you heard which would remind you that salvation
through Christ was a gift? that eternal life was a free gift? Have you heard
anything from him to make you regret that you are no longer his obedient and
abject slaves?"

"No! no!" they replied.

"Then, instead of being angry with that man, you ought to thank him and
let him go in peace," I added.

"Yes! yes!" replied the people, "but on condition that he shall
never come again."

Then Mons. Bechard stepped to the front, raised his hat, and cried with his
powerful voice; "People of St. Anne! you have just gained the most glorious
victory which has ever been won by a people against their tyrants. Hurrah for
St. Anne, the grave of the tyranny of the Bishops of Rome in America!"

That whole multitude, filled with joy, rent the air with the cry: "Hurrah
for St. Anne, the grave of the tyranny of the Bishops of Rome in America!"

I then turned towards the poor bishop and his priests, whose distress and fear
were beyond description, and told them: "You see that the people forgive
you the iniquity of your conduct, by not allowing them to answer you; but I
advise you not to repeat that insult here. Please take the advice they gave
you; go away as quickly as possible. I will go with you to your carriage, through
the crowd, and I pledge myself that you will be safe, provided you do not insult
them again."

Opening their ranks, the crowd made a passage, through which I led the bishop
and his long suite of priests to their carriages. This was done in the most
profound silence, only a few women whispering to the prelate as he was hurrying
by: "Away with you, and never come here again. Henceforward we follow nothing
but Christ."

Crushed by waves of humiliation, such as no bishop had ever met with on this
continent, the weight of the ignominy which he had reaped in our midst completely
overpowered his mind, and ruined him. He left us to wander every day nearer
the regions of lunacy. That bishop, whose beginning had been so brilliant, after
his shameful defeat at St. Anne, on the 3rd of August, 1858, was soon to end
his broken career in the lunatic asylum of St. Louis, where he is still confined
to-day.